


Virtue and Vice and Life In-Between

by Witchy1ness



Category: Ballerina | Leap! (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 02:25:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12571660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchy1ness/pseuds/Witchy1ness
Summary: Louis Mérante's thoughts on Odette's little protégé, and on the lady herself, set during his scenes in the movie.





	Virtue and Vice and Life In-Between

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable characters, settings, and dialogue are the property of Éric Summer, Éric Warin, Carol Noble and Laurent Zeitoun; not to mention a whole slew of Canadian and French production companies. I'm just borrowing them :)
> 
> Written in 2017.
> 
> Reviews and constructive criticism welcome, flames will be ignored.
> 
> A few quick notes:
> 
>  _Adagio_ : Slow movements performed with fluidity and grace.  
>  _Aplomb_ : The apparent elegance and precision exhibited by a confident, accomplished dancer.  
>  _En dedans_ : Movement of the leg in an inwards rotation direction  
>  _Grand jeté_ : A long horizontal jump, starting from one leg and landing on the other. Known as a split in the air. It is most often done forward and usually involves doing full leg splits in mid-air.

**Envy**

 

Louis Mérante can’t restrain himself from rolling his eyes at Madamoiselle Le Haut’s theatrics as “Camille” comes into the room. He doesn’t blame the daughter for them though; it’s obviously all at her mother’s instigation. 

He also tries not to let his exasperation show as he fixes a firm gaze on the girl in front of him and asks her name.

She isn’t stupid, and resignation falls across her face as she answers. 

When Odette is escorted into the room and they lock gazes, it’s as if the years fall away for one achingly brief moment, but then she focuses on her protégé and the moment is lost. 

The old mix of emotions that always seem to bubble to the surface in her presence – guilt, happiness, regret, bittersweet fondness – jars him enough on top of Madame Le Haut’s hysterics that his _“Silence!”_ and accompanying cane rap come out sharper and harsher than he’d intended. 

Mérante takes a quick breath to recentre himself before continuing.

“Alright, like it or lump it,” and here he shoots a pointed glance at Madame Le Haut “– here is my deal.” He looks to Camille as he continues, “– Miss Le Haut, you may enter the coryphée class starting tomorrow. And you will also be in the auditions for the part in The Nutcracker.” 

His gaze returns to the visage of her furious mother; and a hint of steel creeps into his still polite tone, “But I want to be clear: if you sack Madame Odette, I will sack Camille.” He doesn’t wait for a response – is sure it’ll snap the last tenuous hold on his composure if she gives one – before striding over to Félicie. 

Righteous anger bleeds into his tone, and instructor makes no effort to stop it, “You! You made a terrible start to the classes, and you have lied and cheated to be here.” 

The girl’s shoulders slump. 

He continues, voice softening, “But you have also shown great promise, and you’ve worked hard and shown your dedication. You must have a good teacher.”

Involuntarily, his gaze flickers over to Odette, who meets his eyes steadily. 

He looks away first as he continues speaking to the young ballerina, “So you may also stay in the auditions. If you get the part in The Nutcracker fair and square, you may become a coryphée too. If you fail to get the part, then you must leave the Opera. Is that clear?”

Her yes is barely audible, so overwhelmed with relief she’s nearly breathless. 

He turns back to the Le Hauts to confirm, “Is that also clear to you, Madame?”

Madame Le Haut’s “Clear,” is accompanied by a baring of teeth more fit for an alley cat than a Parisian lady, but Mérante ignores it. 

Turning back to Odette and Félicie, he continues, “Then, Félicie Le Bras from Brittany, your future at the Opera is in your hands.” 

He goes to leave, but his traitorous eyes lock with Odette’s once more, and it takes all his training to not expose how raw she makes him feel in that brief moment. He manages to leave the room with his typical poise, but ducks into a training room two doors down where he can let out the breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. 

It’s a little shaky, and Mérante huffs self-deprecatorily. While he sees Odette on almost a daily basis, it’s been years since they’ve had any sort of meaningful interaction.

 _Or at least, meaningful to me,_ he thinks cynically, not having missed how all of Odette’s focus and attention had been squarely on the young redhead by her side. The thought that he is actually _jealous_ of a girl young enough to be his own daughter startles a laugh out of him.

_Ah Louis; nothing but a foolish boy, even at your advanced age, hmm?_

Still chuckling, temperament somewhat restored, he leaves the room to make his way to the next class.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**Temperance**

 

It would be stretching the truth to say he’d come across her by _accident_ , but he hadn’t set out to find her _deliberately _either. He’d merely wandered to the stage while lost in thought, and if it happened to coincide with roughly the same time Odette swept it every day, well…__

____

Although, Mérante can’t call what Odette is doing _sweeping_ , even by a generous definition of the term. But the fact that she is dancing means he doesn’t have the heart to call her on it. 

Her _adagio_ -style movements emphasize the difference between the her _now_ and the her _then_ ; but her _aplomb_ takes his breath away just as much as it ever did. Watching as she moves _en dedans_ , he’s aware of Félicie coming to stand quietly beside him. 

He doesn’t resent the girl’s intrusion as much as he thinks he should; his subconscious, at least, accepts that Félicie is important to Odette in a way his rational mind hasn’t quite come to terms with yet. 

He doesn’t mean to speak out loud, but the words escape him anyways and he murmurs, “She even makes sweeping look graceful.”

Félicie’s use of the past tense when she asks him “She was a good dancer, wasn’t she?” makes the aching beat of his heart grow sharper, and he nearly cuts her off when he replies.

“Not just a good dancer; the _best_ of her generation. And then there was a fire on the stage.” 

It’s at this point Odette stops and meets his gaze, and even halfway across the stage he can see the struggle as she tries to smile and fails, her gaze falling away. 

The sadness he feels is mirrored in her eyes, and he can’t – shouldn’t – do what he wants to about it, so he turns and walks away. 

But the sound of the broom falling to the ground as Félicie throws herself into Odette’s arms sounds, oddly, like hope to him. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**Acedia**

 

Mérante feels his anxiousness and irritation grow as Odette’s little protégé stumbles ungracefully onto the stage. Did the girl truly not understand her situation? She was lucky she hadn’t been tossed back onto the street after her little stunt! 

His aggravation only grows at Madame Le Haut’s gloating, and he can barely unclench his teeth long enough to tell the infuriating woman to sit down. She sits with an alacrity that Mérante guiltily admits to himself he enjoys more than he probably should. 

Focusing back on Félicie in time to hear her fumbling apologies, Mérante sternly tells himself to get it back together. 

“Did you sleep?” he asks, already knowing the answer and barely suppressing a sigh at her nearly inaudible “Not much.”

_Madamoiselle, really……_

“Did you train yesterday?”

Mérante had been expecting another “Not much,” so when she responds with an outright ‘no’ he can’t hide his utter bewilderedness, _“Why?”_

She’d worked so hard to get to this point, why on _earth_ would she throw it all away at the last second? Had she only being giving lip service to what she said she’d wanted? 

Félicie doesn’t answer, standing miserably on the stage, and Mérante hardens his heart before sitting and calling for the music.

But no, Louis recalls watching her dance at the tavern; he _knows_ she wants this as badly as he did when he’d started dance. His anger rekindles at the thought of Félicie blowing her chance after everything Odette had done and been through because of her-! 

His aggravation is smoothed as he watches her dance. She is good, and there is no denying it, but when she falls his anger starts to creep up again. 

“Start again.” The words come out already tense, but when Madame Le Haut acts out _again_ , it’s all he can do to unclench his teeth enough to repeat himself. 

But when she falls again Mérante knows it’s time to put an end to it. He knows Odette is watching from one of the boxes, but he doesn’t – can’t – let it stop him. He’s already been accused of favouritism, and his actions today haven’t done anything to suggest otherwise, and so he must do what he should. 

“You remember our deal?” he asks as he stands up, hands clasped behind him where hopefully no one will see how white his knuckles are. 

Félicie can’t even answer him, and merely stares at the stage in misery. The anguish pouring out of her so forcibly reminds him of Odette after the accident that he can barely tell a smugly gleeful Camille she has the part before escaping the auditorium as fast as he can without making it seem like he’s running away. 

The ghostly overlay of another young ballerina, collapsed on that same stage, follows him to the rather spacious room the Director has graciously given him as an office, where he winds up staring unseeing out the window.

He doesn’t see the rain trickling down the window, or the people scurrying through the street; the echoes of old memories sounding louder and louder in his head. 

Memories of another night that had ended another dancer’s dreams; and Félicie’s sobs are overwritten with agonized screams, and for a moment Louis can smell burning flesh and he barely makes it to a nearby trashcan before becoming ill. 

_I’m sorry..._

He’s not even sure who he’s apologizing to. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**Gratitude**

 

_“Battle!”_

Mérante is confused when the gleeful cry rings out in the lobby of the Opera House, but the smug look on Odette’s face when he catches her gaze tells him everything, and he feels his heart begin to race even as an exasperated smile stretches across his face. 

By all rights, he should have ended things then and there when Félicie fell down in front of them, but Odette’s fierce whisper of _“You can do it!”_ and the answering determination on the girl’s face stops him. 

An eyebrow arches up when he intuits what she’s about to try; and he isn’t even aware that he nods.

But he moves with Odette as she hurries down the stairs, hand coming up to the small of her back automatically in case she stumbles. 

Watching Félicie's _grand jeté_ through the air steals his breath away, only to get it back in a great big _whoosh_ when she lands safely. 

A feeling of pride washes through him, which is ridiculous because he has no right to feel it in regards to Félicie. 

Odette now, she fairly _glows_ with it, and it lightens the pain – physical and emotional – that nowadays seems to permanently haunt her gaze.

Louis feels his breath catch in his chest as the years fall away and suddenly he’s looking at Odette the first time the prima ballerina had landed a particularly complex piece of choreography. 

_Ah._

And while the thanks for such a change must be laid squarely at Félicie’s feet – grudgingly, he will admit, if only to himself – his subconscious vows that it won’t be because of the girl next time.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**(Im)Patience**

 

The by-now familiar feelings of mingled exasperation and irritation that Félicie seems to always invoke in him are now tinged with the slightest bit of worry as Mérante peers anxiously beyond the curtain for his wayward coryphée. 

He tries expelling his anxiety with a sigh as his ears catch the sound of Odette moving up behind him, but knows she can still hear it in his voice when he growls, “The last time she was this late, it did not end well.”

_What could that girl be doing?!_

It’s on the tip of his tongue to give Félicie a dressing-down she’ll never forget when she finally shows up, but there’s _no time_ , she needs to get on-stage _right now_ , and all he can do is tell her to dance “from right _here_.” 

And then she’s kissing the boy she’s come in with on the cheek – and the glance he exchanges with Odette clearly says they’ll need to talk about _that_ too – and nervously making her way off to join Rosita. 

He can finally relax – just a little – and a soft smile steals across his face when he sees how Odette is standing. 

Slightly hunched over, arms clutching herself like she’s cold – exactly like every time she was preparing to go on-stage herself. And seeing the pride transforming her face as she watches Félicie – her daughter in everything but blood, Louis can tell – he decides they’ve wasted enough time.

So when she moves to wipe a tear away he moves as well, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her eye as he brings an arm around her shoulders. Her soft, astonished “Oh!” makes his heart beat faster, but it’s the mirrored fondness he can see in her eyes as she leans into him that give it wings.

 

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**Author's Note:**

> HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS I DID ONE ON TIME!!! It won't happen in November, as I will be attempting NaNoWriMo for the first time ever, haha. So December might be another 2-for-1, OR I might post the first bit of whatever original work I've written for NaNoWriMo, I haven't decided yet :)
> 
> First confession: I've never done ballet a day in my life. The terms I used here were chosen thanks to Wikipedia's glossary of ballet terms (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glossary_of_ballet) and a truly fantastic set of YouTube videos posted by Chela Fernández Belli entitled "The Video Dictionary of Classical Ballet." So if anyone who actually dances reads this, PLEASE tell me if I've gotten anything wrong, haha!
> 
> Second confession: I know the IMDB page lists Félicie's last name as Milliner, but in the movie I watched she clearly says Le Bras, so that's what I went with.
> 
> Third confession: I don't speak French either, so I wrote her last name phonetically. Corrections welcome ^_^;


End file.
